I'm pretty fortunate this morning to bring to you a guest post entry from a fellow writer, who happens to reside in the United States up Colorado way. By day, he is an English teacher at one of the nation's leading high schools, located in Niwot. Terry's also a playwright, and had plays produced in New York City and Europe, and has had a bunch of stories published in print and e-zines, and four books of plays on amazon.com. He is the fellow behind a steampunk themed fantasy nove about a young girl and her shape-shifting sword, which is inhabited by the spirit of a boy who may--or may not--be a demon. When Terry doesn't teach or write, he dresses up as Shakespeare and Hector Barbossa at the Colorado Renaissance Festival (and choreographing swordfights there and elsewhere), working his way up the ranks at my aikido dojo, and spoiling his 2 red-headed grand kids. Online, Terry can be found here.
Anyway, I approached Terry with a request to write a guest post on why researching is just as important in fiction writing. This is what he had to say. . .
_____________
“I never do research. I’m a creative artist, damn it!”
“All of that tedious mucking about in old books and libraries gets in the way of the real writing.”
“Nobody cares about the details, anyhow. They just want a good story.”
Hogwash…
This is akin to a supernumerary actor claiming that he may safely attend to his nasal hygiene during the St. Crispin’s Day speech because everyone will be looking at Henry. Oh, no, my friend. Take it from a veteran of over 100 theatrical productions in the U.S. and Europe: at any given time at least one pair of eyes will be lingering over that index finger of yours as it assiduously plunges up somewhere near your brain.
The same holds true for the most seemingly-irrelevant detail of your story. Someone, somewhere, is bound to notice that you placed Moose Jaw in Alberta instead of in Saskatchewan. Result: “That completely ruined the novel for me. I simply could not concentrate after such a glaring error. Lloydminster I could forgive. After all, it straddles the provincial boundary. But the iconic Moose Jaw? I mean, doesn’t that writer know how to use Wikipedia?”
All of the authorial howling in the world cannot change this. You have guaranteed that this particular reader (your customer, let us remember) did not receive satisfaction. And with word-of-mouth being the single greatest driver of sales, that can be inconvenient if not disastrous.
But that isn’t the most important reason for undertaking careful research. Of greater value is that knowledge, deep knowledge, improves your writing. Superficiality in prose fiction is akin to what is called “generalized emotion” in acting. If I play a generic feeling of fear onstage in Hamlet, that may please a few of the groundlings, but it will be unlikely to bring along the bulk of your audience as I try to lead them to that dark place where catharsis lurks. No, to create a truly empathetic response I must make their hair stand up “like the quills of the fretful porpentine”.
That would require, besides a thorough reading of the play (even the parts in which Hamlet does not appear), a grounding in the psychology of a pampered young man who has lost his beloved father. I must interview those who have been in such a situation, consult psychiatric professionals, read up on the history of the Danish court and the complex dynamics of monarchical families. Also requisite would be an understanding of the honest belief in ghosts which was so prevalent in Shakespeare’s time and how that might inform the prince’s reactions. Armed with such details, I could create a Hamlet who is a living, breathing particular person. Not a type of Renaissance Danish prince but rather a unique and quite specific and nuanced individual.
So it goes with fiction. Every iota of honest information gleaned links to innumerable others in a complicated mesh which will catch the conscience of, if not the king, your reader. It matters little that most of your patrons may not appreciate a particular geographical or historical detail. What is important is that your characters, atmosphere, and plot will be enriched from your having immersed yourself in the world of your story. And, as I can attest, the mere act of research will undoubtedly spin you off in unexpected and rewarding directions which you might never have discovered without “all of that tedious mucking about in old books and libraries.” In that sense your preparation is truly a creative act.
So dive into your research. It is akin to loading and priming your dueling pistol. While the artistry is in the aiming and the courageous facing of the foe, all would be for naught without powder and ball already being in place.
“I never do research. I’m a creative artist, damn it!”
“All of that tedious mucking about in old books and libraries gets in the way of the real writing.”
“Nobody cares about the details, anyhow. They just want a good story.”
Hogwash…
This is akin to a supernumerary actor claiming that he may safely attend to his nasal hygiene during the St. Crispin’s Day speech because everyone will be looking at Henry. Oh, no, my friend. Take it from a veteran of over 100 theatrical productions in the U.S. and Europe: at any given time at least one pair of eyes will be lingering over that index finger of yours as it assiduously plunges up somewhere near your brain.
The same holds true for the most seemingly-irrelevant detail of your story. Someone, somewhere, is bound to notice that you placed Moose Jaw in Alberta instead of in Saskatchewan. Result: “That completely ruined the novel for me. I simply could not concentrate after such a glaring error. Lloydminster I could forgive. After all, it straddles the provincial boundary. But the iconic Moose Jaw? I mean, doesn’t that writer know how to use Wikipedia?” All of the authorial howling in the world cannot change this. You have guaranteed that this particular reader (your customer, let us remember) did not receive satisfaction. And with word-of-mouth being the single greatest driver of sales, that can be inconvenient if not disastrous.
But that isn’t the most important reason for undertaking careful research. Of greater value is that knowledge, deep knowledge, improves your writing. Superficiality in prose fiction is akin to what is called “generalized emotion” in acting. If I play a generic feeling of fear onstage in Hamlet, that may please a few of the groundlings, but it will be unlikely to bring along the bulk of your audience as I try to lead them to that dark place where catharsis lurks. No, to create a truly empathetic response I must make their hair stand up “like the quills of the fretful porpentine”.
That would require, besides a thorough reading of the play (even the parts in which Hamlet does not appear), a grounding in the psychology of a pampered young man who has lost his beloved father. I must interview those who have been in such a situation, consult psychiatric professionals, read up on the history of the Danish court and the complex dynamics of monarchical families. Also requisite would be an understanding of the honest belief in ghosts which was so prevalent in Shakespeare’s time and how that might inform the prince’s reactions. Armed with such details, I could create a Hamlet who is a living, breathing particular person. Not a type of Renaissance Danish prince but rather a unique and quite specific and nuanced individual.
So it goes with fiction. Every iota of honest information gleaned links to innumerable others in a complicated mesh which will catch the conscience of, if not the king, your reader. It matters little that most of your patrons may not appreciate a particular geographical or historical detail. What is important is that your characters, atmosphere, and plot will be enriched from your having immersed yourself in the world of your story. And, as I can attest, the mere act of research will undoubtedly spin you off in unexpected and rewarding directions which you might never have discovered without “all of that tedious mucking about in old books and libraries.” In that sense your preparation is truly a creative act.
So dive into your research. It is akin to loading and priming your dueling pistol. While the artistry is in the aiming and the courageous facing of the foe, all would be for naught without powder and ball already being in place.
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